Fine Arts
by owl-eyes and wolfsheim inc
Summary: He grinned like a fool. "You ready babe?" She ignored the babe comment. NamiDem oneshot


A/N: Second story! Woot-tastic! Hope you all enjoy the wonderful NamiDem fluffiness and Larxie's charming personality.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned, but I don't own anything except for copies of the games and some mangas. Oh well. On with the story!

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A flaxen-haired girl was seated comfortably in the spacious art room. In her ears were the earbuds of her ivory Ipod, blasting the music playing at the highest volume possible. The heels of her simple black ballet shoes clacked on the brown-and-black speckled tile floor in time with the music's slow beat. Her legs were sheathed by navy blue tights with a plaid skirt in matching hues of various blues and thin stripes of white in the parallel pattern of plaid. The long sleeves of her white dress shirt were frayed, and loose threads were tickling her wrists. But she had no reason at all to be self-conscious.

No one else was in the room. The art professer, Professer Lire, trusted her so competely and explicitly the she had even given the girl a set of keys so she could stay as long as she wanted. But the girl could've been surrounded by people, and she would not have noticed nor cared. The art had created her own peaceful bubble. She was the artist who would stay back to escape from the harsh reality of life. Her delicate hands gracefully stroked the lines into shape. Sharp and critical cerulean eyes traced shapes and measured sizes while pink puckered lips blew her long bangs out of her concentrating face.

She was so concerened with her work, she didn't hear the door open or the _'clack' _of heels on the tile floor as another girl strode in towards her. A tap on the shoulder woke her from her calm reverie. Her blue eyes widened in surprise as she whirled around to face her guest. A tall senior girl hovered above her, a knowing smirk adorning her severe features. Glinting turquoise eyes were amused.

"Namine, dearie, what are you doing here?"

Namine rolled her eyes dramatically and removed her earbuds. She ignored the older girl's question. "What're you doing here Larxene?"

Usually the blonde senior had no tolerance for school. Everyday after the bell rang, she raced to her vintage cherry-red Mustang to escape the dreaded building. But here she was, smirk and all, after school hours, spending time at the place she hated most, her figurative prison.

Larxene plopped herself into the ugly plastic maroon chair next to Namine. "If you must know, I'm auditioning kids for Jazz Band." She replied, naming the elite band Twilight Town High School took great pride in. "Nice drawing, by the way."

Namine stared down at her drawing for a second. All it was was musical notes and bubbles. It hadn't even been colored yet. It wasn't all that just yet; the bubbles didn't even have their shines yet. She hadn't even done _shading_ yet. Namine eyed Larxene speculatively with questioning blue eyes.

"Are you only saying that to get on my good side?" She questioned.

Larxene grinned, pearly whites shining. "No, I really do like it so far. _Buuuutt_..."

"Here we go." Namine moaned softly.

"No! It'll be worth it, I promise. There's this kid, and he plays amazingly. He's freaking awesome!" Larxene trilled her last sentence, looking at Namine with pleading eyes and clasped gloved hands below her chin.

Namine peered at Larxene from underneath her sideswept bangs. She arched a dramatic brow, skeptical ocean eyes questioning. Larxene cocked a hip and placed her gloved hand on the hip. She tilted her head to the side, golden antenna-like bangs swaying with the movements.

"Please Nami?" She stuck her full pink lower lip into a pout; turquoise eyes going soft.

"Fine Larxie." Namine retorted, pushing herself off of the mahoghany table with pale and petite splayed hands.

"Don't call me that. Stupid Axel. He thinks he's _so hot _for coming up with my _nickname_." She spat 'nickname' with heavy sarcasm, her sentence coated with dislike for the fiery redheaded male.

Namine giggled quietly behind her hand. "You know he likes you. The two of you flirt all the time."

Namine giggled to herself. Although Larxene would never admit it, she had feelings for the redhead. And Axel had admitted it several times already to her. The problem was he liked his women, and admitted his love to a new infatuation on a daily basis. It certainly didn't do Larxene any good for her attraction to the male or her self-esteem concerning him. Although every single one of their friends was working on getting the stubborn male to stop his womanizing ways.

Larxene's face stayed indignant despite the rosy blush that had bloomed over her cheeks. She 'hmphed' and stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. "If you mean yelling and generally hating the other's guts, then yes. We do flirt. So shut up Nami." She replied haughtily, sticking her aristocratic nose in the air, the blush a healthy red.

"Don't call me Nami. It's Na-mi-ne. Not that stupid pet name that Uncle Xigbar has so graciously bestowed upon me." Namine reprimanded the older girl.

Larxene was laughing loudly when she pushed into the band room. Namine immeadiately saw a boy her age plopped lazily in a black metal chair, a lone music stand in front of him. She wondered if he was comfy. The pokey-looking chair didn't look comfortable or inviting. Her thoughts returned to the boy again. He sported black skinny jeans, a shiny studded belt with chains hanging loosely from it, and a sky-blue short sleeve shirt. Converses covered his feet, and balanced precariously on his lap was a humongous sitar that shined different shades of blue: oceanic, navy, cerulean, cornflower, ultramarine, and sky-colored were only some of the colors she saw reflected.

He raised his mop of tawny blonde hair that reminded her of a lion's coloring; astonishing aquamarine eyes flickered to Namine, then to Larxene, and back to Namine. "Who's she?" He questioned, his husky voice confused, nodding his head toward Namine.

Larxene grinned maniacally. "She, my musician, is your last and final test."

Namine felt her blood run cold. Test? What did she mean, a test? Namine whipped around violently to face Larxene. The golden blonde senior was only grinning at her like everything was hunky-dory. Namine's cerulean eyes flashed like lightning in a fierce storm. Had Larxene tricked her into something?

"What do you mean final test?" Namine ground out between her teeth.

"Now, now, Nami, chillax. I have to test the kid to get him approved for Jazz band. So Demyx is going to play, and you my wonderful artist friend are going to draw." Larxene gripped her shoulders and steered her into a chair. With a smile, she handed Namine an ancient and wrinkled sketchbook and a newly sharpened pencil.

Namine's brows furrowed. She glanced at Larxene then Demyx. She didn't really have a choice in the matter, now did she? This was going to happen. Whether she liked it or not. Demyx shot Namine a lazy, but appreciative glance. "You ready babe?"

Namine ignored the babe comment, glaring at Larxene. Her cerulean orbs peered at Demyx begrudgingly and the worn sketchbook she possessed in her delicate hands. Only Larxene could possibly even conjure up this plan. She thought about resisting. She thought about leaving. But that would only make Larxene dejected and distresed. Plus resistance _now _would be futile. Her window of oppurtunity had passed and gone. The older girl was stronger than her anyways.

Namine sighed out heavily, resign in her voice as she said, "Whatever. Let's just go."

Demyx shrugged, reaising his eyebrows, and adjusted his sitar into place. he tapped his foot, his beat, three times before he started to strum the instrument lightly. The notes instantly calmed Namine's anger. She almost felt like she was being lulled to sleep; without thinking, she shut her eyes. There was only the sound of Demyx's beautiful melody. It sounded unbelievably complicated, yet simple and serene at the same time. Namine could almost see the graceful notes floating through her head. Completely entraced by the alluring, exquisite, harmonious, intricate, and phenomenal melody, Namine forgot to draw anything. When Demyx struck the last chord, Namine's eyes fluttered open and saw Larxene in the same position she'd been in. A dreamy, far-off expression graced her usually angered features. She had been lulled into the same peaceful state Namine had been in. Larxene cracked an eye open and saw the blank sketchbook. Namine stood up and gave Larxene a look of knowing. Larxene winked at the flaxen-haired girl. Namine left the band room with a smile painting her face.

Demyx peeked at the sketchbook. It was blank. Oh God, had he failed? He had really wanted to make Jazz band. Without waiting for an official answer from Larxene, he sprinted out the door, his large sitar strapped securely on his back. He saw the feminine artist farther up the hall.

"Hey Namine!" He shouted.

She turned, head tilted, hands linked innocently behind her. A bright smile was on her face. "Hello Mr. Soloist. What can I do for you?" She questioned, eyes bright, wanting to help this boy.

Namine noticed his strength. The sitar resting on his back was strapped around his chest with a thick black band. He seemed to carry it with relative ease. His aquamarine eyes were wild with worry as they bored into Namine's confused cerulean eyes. He ran an agitated hand through his mop of dirty blonde hair.

"Did I fail or something? The sketchbook was blank."

He questioned her with such an intensity that she found she could not help it. A giggle escaped her lips. She'd just heard the most amazing thing in her life, and he wanted to know if he failed Larxene's little test. Another giggle bubbled to her lips. She knew he wouldn't understand her amusement, but she couldn't help the laughter that was escaping her now. She laughed freely, feeling his stare on her. He probably thought that he'd failed. Oh, that poor boy.

"No." Namine took as a deep breath as another burble of laughter escaped from her lips. She grinned; the tune had put her in such a good mood. It was difficult not to laugh or grin at the boy in front of her. "You definitely passed. I liked your song so much that I failed to remember that I actually had to draw something."

Demyx's eyes widened in a pleasant shock, warmth spreading through him, and he grinned like a child on Christmas day who had just gotten the most expensive gift he had wanted. "Oh, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!" The grin plastered to his face and his chipper mood were contagious; there was obvious relief on his face.

Namine chuckled with him before his estatic emotions got a hold of her, and she whooped with him. He grinned at her and, in a spur of the moment thing, purely a gut instinct, he easily lifted her up off the ground. Namine chortled, shaking with silent rolls of laughter, squealing for the boy to put her down. He didn't, so she tightened her grip and interlocked her fingers behind his neck. Demyx spun in two wide circles and finally placed her back on the solid ground.

"Thank you so much Namine...I don't even know your last name, but thank you all the same."

There was a moment of split hesitation before he pressed his lips to hers and lingered there for a second. His aquamarine eyes were sparkling as he whipped around, whistling, almost skipping out of the building. Namine's eyes were wide with shock. No one had ever kissed her before. She gently touched her lips, the feeling of his remained there. To say she was shocked was the understatement of the year.

"Hey Namine!" She heard his voice call from a distance.

Namine rushed out to the front of the school and down the steps, frantically searching for him. She saw him in the Eastern parking lot, getting into a beat-up lime-green Volkswagon Bug. he waved at her and cupped his hands to his mouth.

"I wasn't joking about the babe comment back there. I'll pick you up Saturday! Seven sharp!" He grinned lovably, heaved his sitar into the passenger's side, and then threw himself into the car. Honking the horn affectionately, he drove out the parking lot, still waving to her.

Her stomach flip-flopped with anticipation, and she squirmed with pleasure, the feeling of his lips still on hers.


End file.
